Through Expectation
by Huskinata
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky is not the best with words, so he decides to confess his feelings for Otabek without them. Oneshot.


Yuri had never been good with words. He knew that. It was why he decided to kiss Otabek instead of confessing his feelings. That way he couldn't screw it up.

Yuri replayed the scene in his mind, watching idly as the numbers above the elevator doors ticked up.

They were sitting so close, arms brushing against each other as they shared a conversation on a park bench. It felt intimate. Yuri had long since lost track of what Otabek was saying in favor of admiring the way the older boy's dark lashes fluttered as he spoke, or how his large hand combed through his thick hair absentmindedly.

Yuri was lost in his own thoughts when Otabek paused the conversation, looking at Yuri because he could tell he wasn't listening. Those olive lips parted slightly in an unspoken question. Before he could talk himself out of it, Yuri leaned forward the few centimeters needed to make their lips meet. He felt Otabek stiffen before pushing gently on the smaller boy's shoulders to separate them. Yuri hadn't realized his eyes were closed until he opened them. Green eyes met onyx and Yuri's heart dropped.

Otabek's brow was furrowed slightly and the look in his eyes made Yuri's gut clench. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He knew that look like he knew all of Otabek's expressions, a knowledge that only came with experience. This was a look that said he was trying to say something Yuri didn't want to hear, trying to think of a way to soften the blow.

The elevator had finally stopped and Yuri got off on his floor. He slammed the door to his hotel room, not caring if Victor and Yuuri shot him questioning glances. It's their fault for not renting their own damn room.

 _I'm sorry Yuri, I don't…I'm not..._

Yuri kicked the wall, not caring if he left a hole in it. Good. He kicked his luggage too, taking his frustration out on anything within reach. He was about to throw a desk clock when he heard Yuuri call out his name.

"Yuri, what's wrong?"

He whirled around to see that Yuuri had stood up and was taking a step towards him, hand outstretched as if to pacify a wild animal, eyes questioning. Victor leaned around him from his seat on the couch with an equally concerned expression. He opened his mouth to lash out, tell them it was none of their business, but all that came out was a strangled sound. Tears started to flow down his cheeks and he couldn't control it. His body shook with sobs and he turned his face down to stare at the floor, ashamed and embarrassed at his own weakness.

Yuuri wrapped his arms around the boy, stroking his hair and leading him to sit at the edge of the bed. Yuri collapsed into the embrace burying his face in the soft folds of the young man's sweater. He couldn't stop reliving the moment and the flow of tears increased.

"I'm so fucking stupid." He said between waves of tears. He was angry at himself for ruining his friendship, angry at this display of emotions, angry that this was affecting him so much. But he knew what he lost. Even if they remained friends this would always be hanging over them, like a cloud that casts out the sun. "I shouldn't have said anything." Ah, but that was the problem, wasn't it? He hadn't said anything. Instead, he did the one thing that was guaranteed to make or break their relationship. And Yuri broke it. He felt himself smash it into little pieces and stomp on those pieces until they were irreparable. The fleeting thought that maybe he was being dramatic and it probably wasn't that bad crossed his mind. Maybe they could still be friends after this; Yuri would move on and they would laugh about this one day. All water under the bridge. But for now Yuri's heart was breaking and he would create a stream with his tears to build that bridge over later.

Yuuri continued to pet his hair in slow soothing strokes, waiting patiently for Yuri's tears to ebb. He didn't offer any unnecessary words of hope or pity or any other emotion that Yuri didn't need. He was just there to support him, a gentle pressure at his side, to keep him from collapsing into the pit of self loathing Yuuri could see the young teen digging for himself internally.

And when his crying had stopped Victor was there to hand him a mug of hot tea and some tissues to clean the snot and tears from his face.

He still felt like curling into a ball on the bed and cocooning himself in the covers, hopefully never to resurface, but it helped knowing that these two would weather the storm and help him get through it.

Through his haze of exhaustion he noticed his phone was missing. He looked up to see Victor press the call icon on his phone before he could question what he was doing.

"Hi. Yuri's grandfather?" he greeted cheerfully over the phone, quickly glancing at Yuri before going back to concentrating on the conversation. "Yuri needs some of your homemade piroshkis. Are you busy? Ah, I know it's last minute. I'll pay for your flight. Yes, tonight. Thank you, we'll come pick you up at the airport. Just give us a call when you land. До свидания."

Yuri's eyes grew as he stared at Victor. "He's really coming?"

"Of course." Victor sat next to them on the bed and gave Yuri's shoulder a gentle pat. "We're here for you Yuri. You have a lot of people that care for you, don't forget that."

Even though his heart still ached he could feel it warm up slightly. It was more kindness than he deserved, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

"And if you want me to teach Otabek a lesson," Victor continues, cracking his knuckles as if preparing for a fight, "just say the word."

Yuri chuckles, feeling lighter than he had before. "I could kick his ass myself, old man. But first, piroshkis."


End file.
